


telling whole lies with a half smile

by embryonic



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:02:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5779762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embryonic/pseuds/embryonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root/Shaw, after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	telling whole lies with a half smile

**Author's Note:**

> I know honest thieves I call family / I've seen America with no clothes on. / (I don't know what I deserve. But for you I could work).  
>  \- St. Vincent, Cheerleader
> 
> *this will (maybe?) have another part.

When they get Shaw back, the first thing Root does is kiss her.

It’s cliché and slightly melodramatic, she knows, but that does not stop her from doing it anyway, from pulling Sameen into her, hard, just to be sure she’s real.  (She’s had dreams where she wasn’t).

It’s not talked about, after.  There are more pressing matters at hand, after all.  Like where they’ll hide Sameen.  Underground, for now, they decide, to the chagrin of Shaw.   

Reese and Finch leave a day after they bring her back, off to save a new number - “ _Go.”_ Shaw had ordered.  “Saving me shouldn’t mean abandoning other people.” – so Root stays there with her until they find a more secure safe house a few days later.

_X-ray, Tango, Ottowa,_ says the Machine through a payphone on the corner of that Thai place Sameen likes.  Root scribbles down the rest of the message and gives it to Harold to decode when she gets back with an order of green curry and pad thai. 

“This better be –“

“Beef, I know.”

“And you remembered the –“

“Extra basil?  Yes, relax.”

“I _would_ ,” says Shaw, through a mouthful of curry, “If you would let me out of this damn subway.”

Root begins to protest, but before she can even get the words out of her mouth, Harold is standing up, all red faced and eyes bulging. 

“ _Hush,_ Sameen.” He demands, and Root has never seen him so angry, not in all the years she’s known him, so she steps back and lets the man do his work.  “Have you forgotten what happened the last time you decided to leave this subway?  Or need I remind you of the months you spent at Samaritan?  Leaving us all behind to wonder if you were dead, or worse.”

Shaw puts her plate down, her mouth set in a firm line, fists clenched at her sides when she stands. Her voice is low and steady when she speaks, like a cocked gun. “You really wanna go there, Harold?”

“Yes, Ms. Shaw.” The man replies, poised and stern, his own version of ruthless. “I do.  Because you seem to have forgotten the hell these last few months have been.  That you just barely managed to escape.  God knows what you’ve been through, and I understand your want for freedom, but _you_ must understand – your carelessness does not just effect you.”

Sameen waits a moment to respond, just standing and staring like a cat waiting to pounce.  “You think I could ever forget these last few months, Finch?  Those months are the reason I want to get the hell out of here.  I’m not your damn prisoner.”

She turns to leave and Root catches her wrist.  “Sameen.” She says quietly, but Shaw yanks herself away and heads into the subway, the furthest place she can go without heading above ground.

“She needs time.” Harold says, just as Root is contemplating whether or not to go after her.  “Nothing we say is going to convince her to stay if she doesn’t want to.”

Root knows that’s true, probably.  But that doesn’t stop her from confronting Shaw later, once all the dust has settled. 

“We’re not keeping you prisoner.” She says lightly, sat next to the makeshift bed Shaw is lying on.  “We’re keeping you safe.”

She doesn’t get an answer right away, and just when she is about to get up to leave thinking, _Maybe Finch was right,_ Sameen speaks.  “I know.” She says, and Root turns to look at her, isn’t all that sure she heard her right.  “I get it, it’s just – difficult.”

“Things will change.” Root tells her. “It won’t always be like this.”

Shaw smiles at that, but all the same she says, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Root.”

-

They decode the message the next day.

It’s an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen – fully furnished, three month’s rent paid by the man who supposedly lives at a property in Dubai for most of the year, and perfectly positioned on the shadow map. 

“He won’t be back any time soon.” Says Root, bouncing slightly as she tests out the bed.  “Comfy.”

“Why are you so sure?” Asks Shaw, staring dubiously from the door.

“Because he’s dead.” Says Root with a smile.  “Don’t worry,” she adds with a wink, “Natural causes.  And no friends or family to come looking.”

“I wasn’t worried.” Shaw replies dryly, ignoring Root’s pat on the bed beside her and heading off toward the kitchen.  

“This dude owns nothing edible.” Root hears Shaw complain as she rummages through the pantry.  “Ugh, quinoa? Gag me.”

“Maybe later.” Says Root, collecting her things and beckoning Bear over.   “I’ll have to drop off some groceries tomorrow.” She says, then adds, “I know what you like.”

When Shaw turns around, it’s with an eye roll that fades into a slight look of confusion.  “You’re going?” She asks, leaning against the counter in an obvious attempt to seem unfazed. 

Root can’t help but smirk, a little.  “I thought you wanted some space.”

“I do.” Says Sameen abruptly.  Then, with a brow quirked, “But the dog stays.”

Root lets go of the leash, commands him toward Shaw.  Bear greets her with a slobbery kiss and Root winks, says, “I’ll leave you two alone, then.”

She’s nearly at the door, but, then –

“Wait, Root.”

Root cocks her head to the side but does not turn around.  Not yet.

“You could stay, too.  In case, y’know, the dog gets scared.  New place and everything.”

It’s a flimsy excuse, to say the least.  And months ago (a whole lifetime ago, practically) Root would laugh.  Root would give that woman hell with a simple, “I was hoping you would say that.”

But when she turns around, Sameen’s eyes are on the floor.  Her hands are fidgeting and she’s got on an even blanker expression than usual.  Something splinters in Root’s chest and any urge to tease all but disappears.

“Of course.” She says quietly, and that is that.

-

She wakes up to a warm tongue lapping at her face. 

Root startles awake to find Bear barking eagerly, all alert and attentive like he was trained to be.  It’s almost light out, must have only been an hour or so since they finally went to bed.  (Or rather, since Root waited up on the couch until she was sure Sameen was asleep.) 

Shaw must have been doing the same, though, because she was no longer in her bed, and when Root calls her name, only a cold silence answers.  It’s too soon to panic, Root knows, but beneath her calm rationale, she does.  It’s a sharp pang of worry, buried deep under her reflex of a game plan – _check the security cameras, call Harold to locate her phone, take Bear to search around the building._

She does the latter first, grabbing a leash and a coat on her way out the door, but before she can even hook the leash onto Bear’s collar, he’s running down the hall, pawing at the door that opens up to the rooftop staircase. _The rooftop,_ she thinks, holding her breath as she chases Bear up three flights of stairs. 

It’s nearly dawn when she gets to the top.  There is a grey light washing over the small part of the city that’s visible from the building, and sitting on the edge of the rooftop watching it is Shaw.

“You trying to give a girl a heart attack?” Root asks calmly, following Bear over to the ledge that Shaw is sitting on. 

Sameen just shrugs, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.  “Just needed some air.”

Root sits beside her and a cold shiver runs through her.  She breathes into her hands, warming them up.  “You know where they have great air?” She asks, not anticipating an answer.  “Morocco. Nice and warm. Beautiful, too.  Nothing beats watching a sunrise on a beach in Morocco.”

 “How about watching a sunrise from the back of a transfer truck while your gun wounds bleed out?” Shaw says dryly.  “That’s the last sunrise I saw.  Kind of killed the sentimentality for me.”

“Not that you had any sentimentality to begin with.” Root says, eliciting a small smile from Sameen that does not reach her eyes. 

“Got me there.”  She just says.

“Well,” says Root, looking at Shaw.  “There is something special about a New York sunrise, too.”

Shaw turns her head at that.  She’s looking at Root now, for what seems like the first time since she’s been back.  Lately, it’s been all downcast eyes and tremors of fear.  Nothing like the Sameen that Root knew before, which gives Root both a murderous urge for vengeance as well as a strong desire to whisk Sameen away to some far away place until some glimmer of her old self shines through.

But neither of those things is possible, she knows.  At least not yet.

“Thanks, by the way.” Shaw finally says, quiet and firm, keeping any signs of affection to herself.  “For looking for me.  For not, y’know - giving up.”

“That’s what you do when you care about someone, Sameen.  You don’t have to thank me for that.”

Her answer seems to startle Sameen – just a hint of a furrowed brow, a sharp inhale through her nose – and Root has to stop herself from making any sudden movements.  It’s like hunting prey when it comes to Sameen; she has to move quietly, deftly, coaxing her out.

“I know they told you I broke.”  She says darkly. Root turns her head at that.  Not quite what she was expecting.  “I didn’t.  I would never -” Sameen goes on, then turns to meet Root’s eyes, willing her to know.

“I know you didn’t, Sameen.” She tells her.  “I never doubted you.  Not even when they had a drill to my head.”

“Oh.” Is all Shaw says, as if she was surprised at Root’s unwavering faith in her.  (Which, Root thinks, she really shouldn’t be at this point.)

“And besides,” Root tells her, “Do you really think we’d be sitting here if I thought you had?”

Sameen shrugs, just a slight quirk of her shoulders.  “I just needed to say it.”

“Well,” Says Root gently, “Now you have.”

Shaw looks away at that, back toward the city.  The sun is coming up now, and the two of them sit there, side by side, watching the world wake up.  _Nothing beats a sunrise in New York,_ Root finds herself thinking, and when Shaw does not protest to the arm slung around her waist, she starts to believe that maybe it’s true.


End file.
